Not The Only One
by CopperTupper
Summary: Mike Schmidt doesn't remember ever passing out so many times. Perhaps Foxy can help?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: hullo, this is my first story on here! I'd really appreciate any reviews to help me improve! My laptop is dead, so I can't use It like I usually do... I'm writing this on my iPad right now ovo"" also really confuses me (normally I use wattpad because I find it so much simpler, but I wanted to give this a shot as well). Also, I'm having trouble with section dividers, so I'm "testing" to see if they appear ^^ thanks! I do NOT own five nights at Freddy's! warning: there is swearing**!

Mike Schmidt didn't particularly know why he'd taken the job. Perhaps it was the lack of free slots at McDonalds, or the apparent ease of being a nightwatchman. He had never really considered himself the active type. The very prospect of hurrying around amidst wave after wave of sweaty employees and spitting oil troughs was enough for him to skim over only one page of the job section. It didn't matter, really. The "help wanted page" as the title read, consisted mainly of product advertisements rather than actual jobs. Mike was surprised, to say in the least, that there even was a job vacancy, slotted tightly between several other adverts.

"Freddy Fazbears Pizza", it read. An oddly brief description of said job and a contact number at the bottom was all that was provided, apart from a... rather _creepy_ image of a bloated brown bear animatronic. The job stated the security guard's sole purpose was to ensure no equipment was damaged and the animatronic mascots weren't to cause any trouble.

Mike raised his eyebrows as he glanced sideways at the picture. It was a joke, most probably. Robots wandering the ground in the the dead of night was not a particularly reassuring mental image, though Mike doubted the advert was entirely true. _Surely_, he thought, _the animatronics would be switched off, if not kept safely in one room._

With the "animatronic issue" out of his mind, he found himself rather eager to begin his new job. Sitting on a chair, pointlessly checking cameras and sipping mango juice didn't sound like such a bad job. And even better, he was getting paid for it!

* * *

><p>Freddy's FazBears Pizza sat on the corner of the downtown area. A block off the Main Street and a few more roads down, the building sat solemnly. Not too remarkable, Mike noted. The walls were coated in some kind of gelatin-like substance that came with age and the car park was suspiciously empty. By now, the distant sound of cars whizzing by down on the Main Street acted as the only reminder that Mike still stood in civilization. The area surrounding the Pizza Place was deathly still, the name of the restaurant glowing eerily in the impending darkness of night.<p>

Something wasn't right.

Something about the aura the old pizza place gave off held Mike at bay and he wondered slowly and without realizing it, whether or not he should disregard the call he made to "an employee" earlier that day and head straight back home. It was logical; Mike's intuition never really failed him, but _damn_.. He needed this money, however little it was.

Forcing his feet onwards, he dragged himself to the entrance of the building, knocking tentatively on closed doors. A few seconds passed before a very distressed looking man flung the door open, almost knocking out Mike.

"I apologize!" He said hastily, stepping out and immediately slamming the door behind him. Mike, dazed as he was, nodded and held out a hand. Instead of shaking it, the man, who he assumed could only be the manager, thrust a pair of brass keys into his palm.

"Just watch out for the animatronics and make sure nothing breaks. The security room is down either of the corridors. You'll find it. Oh, and don't use up too much power or- or.. Just don't, you'll see when you're running low. Go in, quick." He shouted over his shoulder. Mike opened his mouth to speak but the manager had already rounded the corner, the last, hurried pads of his feet hitting concrete slowly dissipating **into** nothingness.

Slightly annoyed at the crappy job introduction, Mike glanced once more at the corner in which his manager had vanished before turning his attention to the door. The keys clicked as he turned them, surprisingly loud in the quiet night. Soon, he found himself standing in a large, almost pitch black hall. To his left, was a long corridor, an almost identical one to his right. In front of him, behind rows upon rows of tables was a stage and a dark purple curtain concealing whatever lay behind.

Being November, it was naturally cold. What felt off, was that Mike actually felt much, much colder inside than out. A draft wafting in from an unknown source tickled at his face and he instinctively drew his arms together. The entrance door had closed on its own accord.

Before making his way to find the security room, he locked the door. Arms still crossed tightly, Mike crossed the rows of tables to the left corridor, past the stage. There was something about the curtain he was grateful for. Normally, people didn't like things hidden from their view. Masks, for example. They hid the identity of the wearer, showing instead a fake representation of the person, or thing hidden beneath. However, in this current situation, Mike felt the complete opposite. For some reason, he didn't want to see what lay behind those curtains

The manager didn't really have to say much about the location of the security room. It was, indeed, relatively easy to find. It was just down either of the corridors. This, Mike realized quickly as he saw the other corridor to his right as he entered the room.

The room itself was quite insignificant. A simple desk, cluttered with seemingly random bits and bobs and numerous posters and drawings drawn by kids. He turned his attention to the most prominent poster; a colourful, but undoubtedly creepy image of what he guessed were the animatronics in daylight. Yep, that was definitely Freddy, or whatever he was called- the one he'd seen in the advertisement. The other was a deep purple bunny, sporting a bright red bow tie to match his eyes. To Freddy's left, had to be the most terrifying rendition of a chicken-duck thing Mike had ever seen. In all honestly, they were all freaky as hell.

Next, he turned his attention to the kids drawings. Crudely sketched pictures of much more innocent looking mascots. Charming, in a way, but how a child could ever even look at such creepy animatronics without getting nightmares was a mystery. Maybe in daylight they-

_Thump, thump_

"what the _f-_" Mike spun around instantly, straining his ears. The restaurant was silent, albeit the light clicks and whirring of the monitors and fan. But no, he was sure he'd heard something. Was it just a figment of his imagina-

_Thump, Thump, Thump_

Mike felt the blood stop flowing through his body, if only for a second. There was no denying it, something was out there. And that something sounded terrifyingly close.

_What the f*ck is going on? What is that? What do I do? _

What Mike did was the first thing his brain told him to. Perhaps it remembered the earlier conversation he had had over the phone earlier that day, the voice of some unknown "employee" telling him about buttons and cameras. Or it was the fact that a glowing button illuminating the room almost screamed "press me!" Either way, Mike was far too panicked to care. His palm slammed so hard into the button, he clutched it to his chest for a few seconds, gritting his teeth in pain. The next thing he saw when he switched the camera on for the dining room was a demonic chicken-duck gaping straight at the camera, beak hanging lopsidedly, displaying a terrifying three sets of teeth. At that, Mike very nearly passed out.

* * *

><p>2am<p>

Holy _hell_

_Oh sh*t_

What had he done

_What had he done_

Mike sat before the monitor, eyes glued to the door, then the screen, then the door. _What was he to do?_

Two hours wasn't really much.

Not if you were sitting on a comfortable couch in the warm confines of your home, watching game shows on television. Mike's "television" however, was not so entertaining. For the past two hours, he had been watching three animatronics: a bunny, a bear and a chicken-duck (he could not exactly establish a clear animal from the appearance of the beast). The bunny, or "Bonnie" as he had learnt from the papers and posters strewn about the room was his main priority. He often disappeared from view, causing Mike to desperately scour the cameras in search of even a hint of purple. Bonnie, it seemed, liked to play games.

Freddy Fazbear had so far, stayed put backstage. Mike had never felt so relieved to see the brown bastard sitting silently, in the exact same position.

"Chica" wasn't too much of a problem. Still a problem, as anything Mike saw this night, but not as big a problem as the other mascots. Above all, she seemed mostly to enjoy scaring Mike by gazing intently at any available camera, beak hanging down like the close mechanism was busted. She did an excellent job, seeing as Mike felt close to dying of heart failure whenever he caught so much as a glimpse of her on the feed.

Most frightening however, was the glimmer of light he caught from behind the curtains of "Pirate Cove." Eyes, staring almost expectantly at the camera, but the bearer of such eyes never really coming into view. It seemed like it never would. _So what was the point? _Mike thought to himself _it's_ _a waste of energy to use the camera anyway._ And so, he began to halt his time-to-time checks on Pirate Cove, despite the odd feeling he had made the wrong decision.

As the night progressed, Mike pondered over the words of "phone guy" as he called him. A past employee, he had said he was, more specifically, Mike's predecessor, the past security guard. Phone Guy was, in affect, his most valuable source of guidance. His douche of a manager hadn't so much as given him any tips and he hadn't even seen a single employee. He now understood why; if he had to work in Freddy's, he would be the first out at the end of the night, off in his car and going at 80 miles per hour in a beeline for home.

He wished with all his heart that he could do that now, but he couldn't. For a start, he didn't dare even leave the security room. Certainly not after what phone guy had told him...

_"They'll probably try to... forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit. Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort... and death. Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh."_

He shivered as he recalled those words. If it weren't for Phone Guy, he would be dead right now, no doubt about it. That, in itself was a thought enough to drive him to slam both buttons simultaneously. All in good time as well. Chica had suddenly appeared, seemingly an apparition, directly outside the window.

Mike's breath hitched as the unfeeling gaze bore into his eyes, bright purple to blue. If she wanted too, one kick or thrust could easily destroy the thin sheet of glass that separated them. He could envision it, conjure up his apparent death in his mind, of that chicken-duck-devil stepping slowly into the room. He had never really expected his death to lie in the hands of a soulless robot, maybe an epic skydiving attempt fail, but not... Not _this_.

Go away, he pleaded in his mind _go away, go away, go away, go away._

4am, two more hours, 20 percent power remaining...

"**GO AWAY!" **

The nightwatchman swiftly shut his mouth, his own words startling him. What was he doing? _Shouting_? Right _now_? He couldn't afford to attract anymore attention to his tiny office, not when those grostesque animatronics were already after him. He hadn't expected it to work either. It was, after all, simply an outburst of emotion. Not a spell or charm that was guaranteed to rid security guards of demonic robots. So when the right hallway light flashed eerily, revealing the absence of certain chicken-duck, something heavy dropped to pit of his stomach. "Relief" was a total understatement in this moment in time.

Mike breathed heavily, eyes wide, heart pounding uncontrollably. He could very well cry right there, bawl like a five year old. And he wouldn't even give a crap.

He hated being caught off guard. _Hated_ it.

* * *

><p>It was 5am when Mike checked Pirate Cove, having accidentally clicked on it whilst trying to access another room. <em>Nothing<em> could have prepared him for what he saw.

The curtain was thrown wide open, with no sign of the luminous eyes he had seen so many hours ago. Instantly, he was on full-on panic mode (he wasn't entirely sure why, but heck, there had been something there before, hadn't there?) Moving on instinct alone, he punched both buttons and was immediately aware of the sharp bang as something hit the door, as well as the disappearance of a few percent of power. He stared in awe at the right door for some moments before he almost fainted for the second time that night.

"_Let me in!_ C'mon, you bastard!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I actually wrote this chapter immediately after chapter 1 several days ago, which explains the quick update. Anyways, as always, freel free to leave a review! ^**^ **same warnings apply, I do NOT own Five nights at Freddy's **

Mike Schmidt couldn't sleep.

Not that he actually expected himself to be able to.

He had sealed the curtains of every room in his small one bedroom apartment in a futile attempt at cutting off the sunlight. He was, after all trying to sleep at 8am in the morning.

It had been two hours since he'd slammed the door of Freddy Fazbears Pizza, walked briskly into the cool November air and driven at 80 miles per hour home. The night had seemed almost surreal, a nightmare that replayed itself in his mind. But he knew for a fact that it had happened, that he had been in a life or death situation, face to face with some demented animatronic. It definitely sounded like fiction the more the memory repeated itself.

The manager hadn't so much as greeted him that morning, shooting him a blank glance before placidly entering the building without a word. Not that Mike actually _wanted_ to talk. He didn't want to talk to anyone in particular, just watch some crappy comedy film on television to take his mind off the horrible ordeal. It just so happened that there were no comedy movies playing at such an early hour and after a while of lingering, Mike eventually threw himself onto his bed. Sleep, the one thing he had been trying to avoid.

With nothing else to do, his mind wandered back to Phone Guy's prerecorded message, the very one that frightened him so much he began to wonder if there was any way to access the restroom without getting his body shredded. The past security guard had told him about the animatronics, about how if he happened to be discovered, he'd be _forcefully stuffed _into a spare Freddy Fazbear suit. _Excellent_, just excellent. He hadn't known why he'd been scared of those rusting robots in the first place (maybe it was their horrific exterior?), but now that he knew he could have been potentially killed... _Wow_. Even more wow, was why hadn't he f*cking _sued_ the place?

Mike turned away from the beam of light streaming through the gap in the bedroom curtains, subconsciously glancing at the door as he did so.

How believable would his story be? That three (or four) fiendish children's mascots had tried to murder him? He wrinkled his nose. Not likely. Maybe he'd be taken off to some psychiatric hospital instead. No way in hell, he could imagine, would anyone believe that he'd almost died last night, at the hands of innocent singing animatronics.

_And what of the job? _

Screw it, he was NOT going back, not for a million bucks. The keys lay on the bedside table, just where Mike had abandoned them when he'd returned. He would throw those keys into the disposal bin, make sure the dustbin man took it away as soon as possible. Never did he want to return to such a madhouse, or even within a 2 mile radius of the place.

He didn't even want to know anymore from the Phone Guy, who he had to admit, shared some very interesting information. However, ever since he had heard that ... voice from outside the metal door, he'd been vying to return. Just for that, nothing else. _Who was that, anyway? Or what was that?_ There had been an eerily human like quality to the voice, despite the chinks and clicks that came with the words. It hadn't sounded particularly threatening, perhaps a little frustrated, if robot mechanism could even portray such emotion but desperation had been most prominent. The sound someone would make if they knew they were going to die in a matter of seconds. Mike couldn't erase that voice from his mind, as hard as he'd tried.

He remembered being too petrified to reply, to make any movement whatsoever. The last thing he'd heard from whatever had slammed into the door was "_oh, son of a_-" before a low, surprised groan emanated throughout the hallway and into the office. There was an obvious flurry of movement as metal hit metal and a silhouette of bunny ears flashed onto the far wall.

Bonnie was outside and the source of the voice had vanished as if it had never been there. And just as Mike's power hit two percent, did the clock switch to 6am.

* * *

><p>The manager, like yesterday, shot Mike a peculiar look, somewhere between disbelief and surprise, before vanishing around the corner of Freddy Fazbears pizza. Mike had hoped to get down to business with the guy, maybe demand what the hell was up with the place. Technically, the manager was committing a criminal offense. It was freaking <em>murder<em> for gods sake, just... Just in a more subtle way. Phone Guy had told him about the thorough cleanup of the premises and bleaching of carpets after the disappearance of any personnel. Only then would a missing persons report be filed. It was absolutely atrocious. In effect, this was an illegal _slaughterhouse_.

However, the manager seemed to have expected questions and with a brief "good luck" was gone at breakneck speed. Mike clenched his fists in annoyance. Well, it couldn't be helped. Hopefully, he would catch the guy tomorrow-if there even was a tomorrow.

Inserting the key into the keyhole, he poised himself for a quick 180 degrees turn in case he came face to face with an animatronic and a hasty retreat was necessary. To his relief, the door opened to reveal the same scene as yesterday: the dining hall, empty and dark to match the outside surroundings. Once again, he was hit with an odd chill that was not due to the weather. Shivering, he closed the door behind him, allowing the darkness and dead silence to envelop him.

* * *

><p>Mike wondered if he should admit <em>himself<em> to a psychiatric hospital. He was acting insane, real insane. Just the fact that he had returned made it plain and simple that he was a suicidal idiot. But he had a reason to be here didn't here? Maybe tonight he would find out just who that voice belonged too. _What if._. He thought.. _What if there was some kind of human-animatronic hybrid? _...oh god... He really was going crazy. Or maybe the animatronics could, in fact, speak. He had heard Freddy's manic laughter ricochet through the halls of the restaurant, the low groan from Bonnie and...and... the voice from... Foxy?

He shook his head. No jumping to conclusions, he told himself. And why, if it just so happened to be Foxy in some alternate universe who spoke, why had none of the other animatronics?

The high pitched ring of the phone snapped Mike out of the realm of imagination. He flinched at the harmless sound before Phone Guys voice filled the room. It had a strange effect; comforting, was the only way Mike could describe it. Those few precious minutes would be the last time he heard a human voice in the next six hours.

Phone Guy reassured him that everything would be alright (_bullsh*t). _Despite knowing everything was most definitely not alright, Mike felt himself take the words to heart. It was better to live on faith than fear, right? The voice on the other end continued on nonchalantly, informing Mike that Freddy rarely left the stage. Mike was instantly hooked, however when he heard mention of Foxy's name. Maybe not Foxy specifically, but he was, if Mike was correct, the only animatronic that resided in Pirate Cove. His heart fell when Phone Guy told how he became more active throughout the night, when the camera wasn't checked enough.

That had to be reason he snuck out last night. Mike felt extremely daft at that moment. Had he only checked Pirate Cove regularly, curiosity wouldn't have driven him back to this heinous place. Still, now that he was here, there was no turning back. As well as that, Mike now knew just HOW to "lure" Foxy out. It was extremely risky and he could get himself killed in the blink of an eye, but he was running on faith, right? Besides, he had that insatiable longing to know who exactly had spoken, the only slightly logical "beings" being Bonnie or Foxy. As he flicked on the hall light, he remembered quite grimly that curiosity killed the cat.

* * *

><p>It was 3am and so far, only Chica had paid Mike a visit. He had prepared himself for her wild appearance and thanked the adrenaline rush that he'd been able to push the button in time. Still, that unblinking stare was extremely unnerving, though luckily, she left not long after. He hadn't checked Pirate Cove for the past three hours and was somewhat relieved that Foxy hadn't shown up. Through that relief however, he was surprised to notice the slimmer of disappointment.<p>

The clock chimed lightly to signify the beginning of 4am. Just when Mike reckoned Foxy was going to stay in for the night, a sudden gust of bone chilling wind wafted into the office. All of a sudden, he felt apprehensive. Something was not right. A thunderous laugh, deep and taunting echoed throughout the restaurant. Mike felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine and quickly snapped the monitor to life. To his horror, Freddy was no longer in the backstage area, instead lurking in the dining hall.

If that bastard moved any closer to the office, he was sure he should begin making his way towards the restrooms, or the manager would have a bit more than blood to clean up if he died tonight.

Mike wiped his brow and switched views to Pirate Cove. He couldn't help it, it had been four hours and Foxy had not yet made an appearance. Maybe he should just check if he was even out yet or-

He practically dropped the monitor, leapt for the left door button and clapped it shut, moments later a magnificent thump was heard and door visibly shuddered.

Then there was silence.

Silence that lasted a _bit_ too long.

Mike gaped, feeling himself go numb.

Was... Was Foxy going to say something? Or had he been mistaken? Maybe it had been his imagination... But how could ones imagination be so vivid? Mike's hand hovered over the button, eyes nervously scanning the power that was slowly draining. He had to open it, to check. He didn't like to envision what would happen if the power went out. One centimeter away from hitting it and roughly a minute since the thump on the door, he pressed it tentatively.

Had he not fallen back at that moment and hit his shoulder painfully on the table corner, he probably would have screamed so loud his ancestors would have heard it. If the figure at the door so much as moved, there would be no chance of Mike almost fainting. No doubt about it, he would black out for real. He'd never felt so utterly hopeless and terrified in his life, not when the car had sped towards his five year old self on the road, or when he'd almost fallen off a cliff tightrope. The glinting eyes stared at him, almost quizzically for a few moments.

Mike couldn't feel anything. Not his arms, his legs, heck, he couldn't even feel himself breathing. Somehow, he managed to get his vocal cords together, if not a little doggedly.

"Ahh... F-f-foxy..." _What was he thinking? Talking to an animatronic?_ He was practically on his death bed, and God knows if soulless robots even understood english. "Uh... Eughh.." So much for trying to get his vocal cords up and running; they were down just as quickly as foxy stepped into the room.

Fear seized the very essence of his being, paralyzingly him, almost. He stared, dumbfounded at the animatronic in front of him. Through it all, he felt that stupid surge of relief that he hadn't already knocked himself out.

**What the f*ck had he done**. It was only night two of this ... This .. "Job" (or rather, suicide mission). Screw the voice, had he only heeded the warnings, he wouldn't be here right now. No, he'd be watching television, or having dinner with friends or... Or sleeping, like a _normal_ person. His mind raced, probably trying to divert his attention from his apparent death when a voice pierced right through his mind.

"You're a bitch, you know?"

Oh so slowly, Mike looked up to meet Foxy's menacing glare. He was suddenly all too aware of his position, huddled to the right wall, on his back and covered in sheets of paper.

Foxy lifted a paw, causing Mike to squeeze his eyes shut, preparing for his imminent death. When nothing came, he sheepishly opened them once more. Foxy was rubbing his nose, which Mike immediately noticed was at an odd angle.

"You didn't have to slam the door in my face, you know." He hissed, voice scarily human but with the light whir of machinery. His gaze shifted so that now his eyes were directed straight at his "injured" nose.

"I-I-I'm ... Ah... uhm... I-i m-mean .. I-"

"You're a bitch." Foxy repeated. His words were slurred and slow, most likely due to his obviously broken jaw.

Mike found himself stunned into silence. Pushing through the steel harness that kept his body in place, he cautiously shifted up into a sitting position against the wall, eyes never leaving Foxy. _W-what was going on?_

Foxy shot him a glare, a glare powerful enough to make the poor security guard visibly flinch.

To his astonishment, Foxy turned away and picked up the monitor.

"Freddy's coming."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: oh jeez... Sorry for the late update! I'm currently doing my GCSE's so my life revolves around exams and revisions nowadays...my wrote this chapter at about 10pm yesterday and finished it around 1am. I'm not happy with it at all, so I proomies the next ones a will be better! again, I'm really sory : and thanks for the the reviews n stuff!**

Freddy? ..._Freddy?_

_Who the hell was Freddy?_ Oh right, _that _bastard. How could he forget? The answer was simple; anyone in Mike's current position would probably have experienced some kind of amnesia. Who was he to blame? There was a bloodthirsty animatronic in his very own office, handling the equipment, or maybe destroying the equipment so that the satanic gathering of animal robots could ensue quicker. How that would work, he had no idea, but whatever that f*cking fox was up too, he was sure it wouldn't do him any good. On the topic of Foxy, the animatronic was shifting placidly between the few rooms available to him through the cameras. Occasionally, Chica or Bonnie would appear, lurking in the corners of rooms or knocking over dishes in the kitchen. That was somehow comforting to the security guard, who was still huddled lamely against the right wall.

What was most definitely not comforting, however was the absence of a certain brown son of a bitch. Mike noticed the slight frantic pace of Foxy's paws as he tapped hurriedly on each monitor button. He had once seemed rather confident with himself, flipping lazily through each screen but as soon as he'd noticed Freddy was nowhere to be see, the panic switch seemed to have been flicked. Mike thought, at least he wasn't the only one freaking out now.

Another very unnerving thing was that Mike was obviously the only human, probably the only thing capable of thinking and experiencing actual emotion within the block. The thing he saw in front of him was animate, but it didn't make it sapient. It was programmed to do things, movements wired to its system. But that was what confused him most- maybe he was right in saying Foxy and his buddies couldn't feel emotion, but... Had they actually been programmed to do things? They sung to children during the day, they grinned horrifying toothy grins at the camera. That made perfect sense. But why was Foxy not dismembering him? Why was Foxy flicking through monitors? How did Foxy even _know?_

Mike felt like a miniature nuclear explosion was occurring in his mind. The whole situation was just... _Unthinkable_. All he wanted now was to end it, to crush the rampaging thoughts and live like he'd never stepped foot into such a madhouse. And right now, he had the perfect opportunity. Foxy was standing in front of him, back turned and perfectly vulnerable to any incoming attacks. All it would take was a whack or kick and his mechanic head would probably go flying. Then he would run, run out of the office, out the main entrance and back into a normal life.

He seriously considered making a fateful leap at Foxy and imagined brutalizing the robot, tearing out wires and cross beams as if he were ridding a person of their organs. He assumed that was probably how it would feel to a robot- then again, robots couldn't _feel_.

Instead, he sat glued to the floor, feeling like he was falling through ice. The gentle tick of the clock and whir of the fan were the only things to keep the room from falling into a depressing state of silence. He was glad too, that the soft sounds partly masked the rustle of his own movements.

After few minutes (or an eternity), a louder tick signified the beginning of 4am.

Mike shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep as quiet as possible so Foxy would not turn his attention to him.

He felt... Incredibly _small_. The monotonous ticks almost rubbed the passing of wasted time in his face. He could devise an escape plan, or proceed with his old one. But if he wanted too, he'd have to do it soon. In horror movies, things always seemed to worsen as time passed. Mike knew it was now or never.

You are probably disappointed at this, but Mike chose never.

In all honesty, courage wasn't his strong suit. He could be brave when he wanted to be, he could stand up for anyone he felt necessary to. But right now, there wasn't anyone to stand up for, with the exception of himself and he had already convinced himself he was destined to die in this crazy, lonesome place.

So Mike sat, wavering slightly as he contemplated his imminent death. For a few, dragging minutes, there was silence. Foxy, immersed in his business and Mike intent on keeping his noticeability to an absolute minimum.

Suddenly, a ragged, slow voice pierced the bleak silence. Mike's heart fell at the very first syllable. So it wasn't as though Foxy had forgotten about him, as he had hoped. The animatronic had known full well he was there.

"Chica."

Mike blinked. "W... W...w-what?" Perhaps he had expected something more along the lines of "it's killing time" or "let's get this party started" before casting a devious smile. Instead, he got one word that somehow equalled everything he expected Foxy to say in terms of terrifying-ness.

"Chica." Foxy repeated. "She's coming."

"W-where's Freddy t-then?" _What the hell was going on_? First Freddy was apparently on his way and now that purple-eyed demon?

Foxy nodded slowly, eyes still trained on the monitor.

"...and Freddy's on 'is way too."

Oh shit.

_Oh f*ck_

So this _was_ a satanic gathering. He knew it. He also knew now that there was no f*cking chance of survival now. He wished he were falling into the bubbling crater of a volcano. At least he'd see the world one last time before he died, at least it'd be quick. At least he wouldn't be an offering to to _satan_.

All thoughts of volcanoes were forgotten as Foxy snapped:

"C-close that door!" Mike paused at the falter in the animatronics voice. It sounded... So unusual for a scrap of metal. He tried to replay it in his mind.

"Close. The. _Door!_"

That was enough to snap Mike out of the realm of imagination. As if on autopilot, he reached up, letting out a small "tch" as his bruised shoulder raised and his palm slapped the button.

A deathly silence followed that lasted roughly two seconds before Foxy snapped exasperatedly:

"The _other_ door you complete an utter-!"

There was a brief pause before he began again, a note of surprise in his voice.

"...Bonnie?"

Was that some kind of pun? Mike felt his mind flip. Could robots even make jokes?

In a flash, the fox was at the left door. Mike flinched at sudden movement; he had forgotten how fast Foxy moved, almost like a lightning bolt.

It was as soon as he spotted the silhouette of bunny ears on the wall that his brain cleared of any emotion. And as soon as Foxy tapped the door button to lift it that terror flooded back in a mad torrent of rain.

"W-what-!" He began, voice rising.

"Foxy." Bonnie greeted excitedly.

It could speak.

It could speak, like Foxy, Mike observed with a pang. He couldn't be sure why, but that made it a whole lot worse.

Foxy nodded.

That eery smile and too bright eyes spurred on Mike as he forcefully shoved himself into a standing position. He was immediately hit with a pang of vertigo and was surprised at how weak his legs felt. Still, he managed to steady himself against the wall.

The movement seemed to have caught the attention of both animatronics. Foxy watched warily as Bonnie tilted his head in a very inhuman like manner, as if the entire thing was sliding along his shoulders to the left. His eyes glinted, almost playfully. Mike gulped.

_What. The. F*ck. Was. He. Supposed. To. Do_.

"Hello." Was the one word greeting. Mike stared. He stared like he had never stared before. No words would form.

"Hello." Bonnie repeated.

Nothing.

Bonnie was visibly annoyed with Mike's very impolite behavior. He shot Foxy a look and the red animatronic stepped aside sheepishly.

He then entered the room.

Mike continued to stare.

He was sure his heart was halfway to his gut now, perhaps a bit further. Soon, he would no longer have it. And thank god for that.

The purple bunny turned it's crimson eyes to meet Foxy's. With the demeanor of a five year old child, a jovial smile suddenly lit up his face, displaying both sets of straight, white teeth. Foxy did not return the smile - not that he could anyways. He took a small step back, so minute it was difficult to notice.

"Where is Freddy?" He asked. "I saw him coming."

Bonnie grinned further, causing a cold shiver to run down Mike's spine. Foxy also appeared to look evidently uncomfortable, eyes narrowing. The rabbit took no notice.

"He's just hanging around. As usual." Bonnie finished with a light chuckle. The laugh was riddled with the usual buzz of electricity and static as audio boxes clicked and spun.

Foxy waited, hoping to elicit more of a response, something more specific. Bonnie was always overly specific. He had no idea what had caused such a vague answer.

Instead, Bonnie stayed quiet, mumbling an obscure tune to himself, a song similar to a nursery rhyme Mike could of sworn he had heard before. All through this, the creepy smile was still planted firmly on his face. The dim light cast a faint shadow over the top half of his head, which was a shade darker. When the bunny did not detail it further, Foxy decided to draw the conversation on.

"He isn't backstage." He stated. "And I don't see him on any -click- cameras." At this, Bonnie let out another loose chuckle.

"Of course you don't, he doesn't like being watched, silly. We both know that." Bonnie blinked, eyes still jubilant.

"Yes but... That's why I'm asking...you're the one who keeps tabs on him." Foxy's voice had grown slightly aggravated, with an edge of frustration.

"I do keep tabs on him." Bonnie replied simply.

"Then where is he...? Is he close?" Foxy persisted. One paw rested on the monitor screen and the other hooked one was hanging down by his side, twitching lightly. The whir of the fan seemed to grow louder, almost as though it was trying to mask the tense atmosphere.

"Maybe." The bunny said, tone still elated and merry. It was so... unfitting in the current situation.

The light flickered. Someone should've checked the monitors, in case a monster in the dark had been creeping towards the office in the duration of the conversation, but Mike was so terrifyingly captivated and Foxy had obviously dismissed the whole camera checking business. Right now, the animatronic looked plain annoyed, as well as perplexed.

"What's gotten into you?" Foxy hissed. "just tell me, I thought we agreed on the whole plan. Is this a _joke_?"

Suddenly, Bonnie's expression darkened. The room seemed to still. The childlike smile faded.

"What's gotten into _you,_ Foxy?" Bonnie asked, voice low. His eyes cast over to Mike, who positively shrank back against the wall, feeling the solid structure behind him turn to jelly. Narrowed eyes flicked back to the fox. "You hate this place so much."

"W-what?"

"We sing for the children, Foxy. We make them happy. We are here for the children."

Foxy spluttered as best a robot could. His eyes turned to mere slits.

"You're a f*cking bastard. And a liar. We agreed on this, all you have to do is tell me where he is. And the children can get some f*ucking brains and find a more suitable place to have birthday parties" He snapped, stepping forward threateningly. He did not mention the fact that he had barely seen any children since the Bite of '87. He chose simply to glare in a way that would cause most people to flee, screaming all the way. But Bonnie did not falter. "Just tell me."

"But I don't want too." He replied. The gleeful smile flashed back onto his face as though it had never vanished. As Foxy stared in tempestuous awe, the red-eyed bunny shifted his feet across the frigid floor and crossed over to Mike.

The security guard was painfully bewildered, half blinded with fear that only seemed to double as the animatronic approached him. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be standing for much longer and he knew he wouldn't want to be, especially when the world around him was swathed in a black veil, gradually permeating his vision. He knew what was to come, and it surprised him. He had never passed out before, certainly not of fear. A college mate once had though, when the next door neighbor climbed in through his window and he had been convinced after waking up that a ghostly murderer had floated 8 meters off the ground to greet him. Mike had never understood that; how could you faint out of fear and what did it feel like? He had his answer clear and simple. It felt like hell was ascending to merge with the living world and an ominous cloud of vengeful souls was covering him like a quilt.

"W... W-wha...?" He managed, aware of the proximity of the Bunnies' helmet like head, its unnaturally bright eyes and bleeping light from its endoskeleton, just about visible from between its metal jaws.

Bonnie laughed quietly. In Mike's ears, it sounded very much like thunder.

White teeth flashed inches from his face, red eyes almost spilling out a kind of eager happiness that made Mike's heart clench. That wasn't proper happiness, not the kind genuinely cheerful people harbored. Everything about it was wrong.

Foxy said something further into the office, though his voice was distant and slurred. The sound of machinery and whirring fans dropped gradually to an almost inaudible buzz. Mike could feel himself sliding down against the wall, until he was back where he started, sat slumped on the floor. His eyelids drooped tiredly. How could he be so f*cking exhausted in this kind of situation? Any sane person would be out that door in no time. But there was no helping it now. The air turned to water, dripping away, slowly seeping into the cracks. It wasn't worth fighting to keep his eyes open, he decided. All the better if he got things over with quickly.

"Freddy knows what you're up to..." A quiet giggle, unfamiliar to human ears rang softly throughout the room. Just as Mike slipped into the terrifying blackness of his mind, a loud growl reverberated through the halls of Freddy FazBear's Pizza.

"... And he's not happy."


End file.
